Save My Worthless Life
by HollywoodGirl745
Summary: Drake is a heroin addict. M for a lot of drug use and a few mentions of prostitution nonexplicit .


I've never been an addict so forgive any mistakes.

Disclaimer: Drake and Josh is not mine.

The song is "The Girl With Golden Eyes" by Sixx A.M., which, unfortunately, is not mine either.

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I hate this. I love this. It makes me feel euphoric. It makes me feel like someone is scrubbing my insides with acid. It's made me friends. It's lost me friends. It's given me a family. It's stolen my real family. It has made me realize what is important in life. It has made me a beggar, liar, and stealer. I can stop anytime I want. I can't live without her gentle touch. Heroin has shown me true love.

Heroin has lead me down a one way street to hell.

_She speaks to me in Persian  
Tells me that she loves me  
The girl with golden eyes  
And though I hardly know her  
I let her in my veins  
And trust her with my life_

It was an innocent start, my descent into addiction.

I started out smoking pot with my friends. That is all, simple enough. We were young and searching for fun. But after around a year of using pot more frequently, the high wasn't enough for me.

Then, one day in my senior year in high school, someone introduced me to cocaine. Cocaine's high was much more enjoyable than weed's and quickly switched to my poison of choice.

I took the cocaine use to a much higher level than any of my fellow drug abusing friends. Soon, it was not only cocaine polluting my bloodstream, but anything I could get my hands on. Ecstasy, oxycodone, shrooms, LSD, you name it.

It was the summer after high school graduation when my life started its true downward plummet. A friend of a friend came over to Jamison's house to snort cocaine with us, to celebrate our escape from the hell that is called high school.

With him he brought his drug of choice, my soon to be best and only friend. This friend would cut me off from real friends, family, and life. Yet, I could not leave her.

Heroin.

Jamison's friend wasted no time taking out his rigs, spoon, cotton ball, lighter, and smack. I eyed it cautiously-everyone, even the hardest druggies, will tell you to stay away from H.

"H will kill you, man. Even on the first hit, it'll kill you. Don't do it, here's some blow instead."

I didn't listen though, I couldn't. The way the heroin's gold color mixed with his blood as he pulled back on the syringe was too much for me.

"Hey, man, can I try some H?" I had questioned. He had smiled widely, especially with the drug now in his system. Jamison's eyes had bugged out of his sockets as he stammered, "No, Drake, dude, not junk. I told you not to mess with junk."

Too late.

Jamison's friend quickly filled up a hypodermic needle for me.

"Do you know how to do this?" He asked, holding up the needle and tourniquet.

I shook my head, my body's nerves on fire in anticipation.

He smiled and shook his head as he grabbed my arm clumsily, tying the blue tourniquet around it. I made a fist and he found a vein on the first try. He pulled back and watched the blood dance with the heroin before slamming it into me.

It was as if my world had stopped and started again. This time it was brighter, faster, more beautiful, and it was always happy. It was the best feeling in the world, nothing could compare to the sweetness of heroin's kiss.

Alcohol, acid, cocaine…they were all just affairs. When I met heroin it was true love.*

_I wish I had never kissed her  
'Cause I just can't resist her  
The girl with golden eyes  
Every time she whispers  
'Take me in your arms  
The way you did last night.'_

I never kidded myself about my addiction to heroin. I knew after that first hit at Jamison's place when I was 18 that my life would revolve around this drug.

I have heard that the reaction is different for different people. On their first hit, some people get very sick. Some people die. The unlucky ones are like me. They love everything about the drug and are soon drawn into her hellish lifestyle.

We will do anything for a hit. When I say anything, I mean anything. I've seen people steal their eight year old sister's allowance. I've seen young virgins selling themselves. I've seen young women selling their babies and crazy men trying to sell their siblings and wives. The life of a heroin addict is not one anyone wants to lead by choice, but instead of being offered help by our friends and family, more often than not, they abandon us.

Nobody wants to be related to the user. We could give you AIDS, hepatitis C, or even addiction itself.

The abandonment never made sense in my fucked up head. So, you will abandon your child because they are trapped in the horror of addiction? "They brought it upon themselves," you say. "They're crazy, suicidal, maniacs," you shout. That may be so, but we can not help it. We may have dabbled in something even once and then we could no longer live without it. Us addicts, we need your help, not your criticisms. I doubt that you would abandon me if I had lung cancer because of years of smoking. Smokers brought that upon themselves, just like we did with addiction.

All we need is help, love, guidance, trust…understanding.

_Everything will be okay  
Everything will be alright  
If I can get away from her  
And save my worthless life._

Once I became addicted to heroin, I lost everything.

None of my friends would speak to me anymore, not even my fellow drug users.

"Drake, we told you not to mess with heroin. We don't wanna hang out with a junkie. Get the fuck away from us," they said to me.

I was not upset because I knew that she was waiting in my car.

The disassembling of my life did not stop with the loss of the only friends I knew.

Apparently Megan was trying to pull the "ultimate prank" as she put it, in Josh and I's room. She found my needles, spoons, lighter, cottons, and an empty bag where the heroin had been. She quickly told my Mother who promptly told me I had two choices: go to rehab or get the fuck out of her house.

It was a very loud and angry argument, which ended when I started jonesing for smack. The cold sweat and shakes answered the question for me.

I sure as hell wasn't going to rehab anytime soon.

So, I was homeless. I had nowhere to go, no money, and I defiantly wasn't going to be going to college like I had planned. I was lost, but it did not seem that way to me at the time. As long as there was junk to be injected, I was as happy as you can be.

Soon, though, I ran out of money to get the junk. I stole from stores, I stole from friends, I pick pocketed tourists, and I even broke into my house and stole from my own family.

The worst way I got money was by working the streets. I slept with men I didn't know, who picked me up at the corner of Bailey Avenue and Dutch Street, just to fund my habit. I had officially lost myself.

Junk had become my life.

_I wake up every morning  
Jonesing for her love  
The girl with golden eyes  
I won't have to wait long  
'Til she buries me with roses  
'Cause she's always by my side_

I was twenty one when I realized that my habit needed to stop.

I had seen junkie friends turn blue and die just seconds after injecting heroin, the needle still in their arm.

I had seen people arrested and sent to jail for twenty years for possession of narcotics.

I had seen too much, lost too much, to continue down this deadly road. I knew if I kept going, I would be dead before I made it to twenty two.

You never see old junkies because we're all dead by age twenty five.

My epiphany came one day in June. It was a warm day and the sun was shining. I was walking down Handly Street, just wandering and wasting time before I would need to shoot up again, when I saw Megan.

She was about sixteen and had grown into a beautiful young woman. She was sitting at an outdoor coffee shop with a boy who looked to be maybe a year older than her. When she saw me, her eyes got wide. She opened and closed them, trying to see if I was really there. I assume my family thought that I was long dead, overdose, suicide, murder, whatever.

I kept walking down the street, pretending I hadn't seen her and the boy. As I was walking past I heard him say, "Who is that you're staring at, Megs?"

I heard her say shakily, "Oh, no one. Just another one of those stupid junkies."

You know when your little sister denies your existence that you have reached rock bottom.

_Everything will be okay  
Everything will be alright  
If I can get away from her  
And save my worthless life._

I waited until about six o'clock that night to call them.

"Hello?" She answered, sounding preoccupied.

"Mom?" I questioned, my voice shaky from nerves.

A moment passed and I heard a choked sob.

"Drake! You're alive! I have been so worried! Where are you? Where have you been? Are you still using? Are you okay? Why are you calling?" She was crying, making her words difficult to hear.

I couldn't help myself, hearing the mother who raised me crying, brought on my own ocean of tears.

"Mom…I'm so sorry. For everything," I choked out.

"Drake baby…why did you call? You know we're not going to give you any money."

"I know. I've been thinking and I was wondering if…if…you could help me get into rehab."

"Oh, Drake. You want to get clean? Oh baby boy…" she started full out sobbing, I could hear Megan in the background asking if she was okay.

She continued after a moment, "Of course we'll help you get clean. You're my beautiful boy, please come home baby…"

"O-Okay…." I whispered.

I was given a second chance.

_Day one. Dope free. I went to the clinic today and got the first dose of methadone.  
I'm out of dope so I threw away all my rigs.  
Day two. I can't believe it's been two days without junk.  
Fucking smack, it just ruins peoples' lives.  
At first it seems so sweet, then you wake up next to a monster.  
Day three. I haven't had anything for three days now.  
This withdrawal is killing me. It's like shock therapy to my guts.  
Day four. Last visit to the clinic. My whole body feels like it's cracking into pieces.  
Fragile doesn't even come close to describing how I feel.  
Day five-- I'm sick as a dog, but this handful of painkillers  
and a lotta whiskey's gonna get me through.  
Day six-- When I'm left to my own devices I go fucking insane.  
I'll never use heroin again.  
Day seven-- I can't believe I'm clean!  
Day eight-- Everyone says I look better--  
Day nine-- The parasites are panicking--  
Day ten-- They seem amazed that I'm alive!_

Think of the sickest you have ever been in your life, multiply that by ten, and you might come close to what it feels like to detox off of heroin.

That night I called my Mother, I went home. I went home and was greeted by more love than I deserved. It was like I hadn't torn our family to pieces. It even seemed like our bond was stronger than before my addiction.

The nest morning I was very dope sick as my Mom, Dad, and Megan drove me to rehab. Josh was happy to hear that I was seeking help, but could not come to see me as he was busy studying at Yale University. Megan did not speak to me once until they were dropping me off in the light red brick building. I was shaking and I felt like I was breaking into pieces as she whispered into my ear, "I'm glad you're alive, Drake."

Her words stayed with me as I fought off the terrible depression that came as a psychological attempt by the heroin to get me to use again, I thought of her as I fought off the urge to leave rehab and go shoot up enough dope to possibly kill myself. I thought of her words all the time.

I learned a lot in rehab. I learned a lot as a heroin addict.

I learned things could be much worse…I could be addicted to methamphetamines.

I learned that things will always get better.

I learned to think more of other people, rather than only myself.

I learned that my Mom had cried herself to sleep every night for years since she had to kick me out.

I learned that Megan had battled depression as a result of my addiction and abandonment.

I learned that Josh almost didn't go to Yale, the college of his dreams, because he was afraid I would die and he would not be near me.

I learned that drugs were not a good way to deal with my overwhelming emotions.

I was told how stupid I was for throwing my life away and how smart I was for trying to save it.

I learned that I'm going to have to have some strong will power, because most heroin addicts relapse into drug use.

I learned to love what you have and let go of what you can not change.

Yes, I learned a lot from my stint with death. Would I do it over again? Never. I would not wish addiction upon my worst enemies.

Have I relapsed? I'm proud to say that I am 453 days clean and counting. It seems like years ago that I was working the street corners at night just to buy heroin. It seems like years ago I watched friends die, years ago Megan denied my existence. My relationship with my family is stronger than ever and if it weren't for them, I have no doubt that I would be dead by now.

I battle the demons of addiction every single day.

But if there is one person that you don't want to lose, it's yourself.

Not matter what happens, not matter what anyone says, don't ever do anything that could make you any less of yourself. Because when everyone else leaves, you is all you have.

Live on.

_Everything will be okay  
Everything will be alright  
If I can get away from her  
And save my worthless life.  
Everything will be okay  
Everything will be alright  
If I can get away from her  
And save my worthless life._

*Credit to Nikki Sixx in "The Heroin Diaries".

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